


Like Real People Do

by prettyonthethrone



Category: Outlander (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M, i'm a slut for this trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 11:57:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9895472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyonthethrone/pseuds/prettyonthethrone
Summary: Five beds they've shared.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The video of Sam and Caitriona with their cat child absolutely killed me and I'm still not over it, so this is heavily Eddie-inspired. Title is from a Hozier song.

**one**

Caitriona doesn’t think she’s been this tired in days.

 

She’s been on her feet since 4:30 in the morning, due to an absurdly early call time, and has spent the better part of the last nine hours flitting about the dreary Scottish highlands. She’s sure she’s about to fall asleep into her fourth cup of coffee when a PA informs her and Sam of a two-hour break.

 

“Oh, thank god,” she hears herself say.

 

She begins the walk to her trailer when she feels Sam in stride beside her.

 

“Left my phone in your trailer earlier, I think.”

 

“Oh, yeah,” is all Cait can muster. She almost tries to make a joke about him needing his phone to text one of his twenty girlfriends when she realizes she doesn’t even have the energy to do so.

 

They walk in a comfortable, if exhausted, silence until arriving inside. Before Cait can even ask, Sam is turning her around to help relieve her of Claire’s clothes. She stands, half-asleep, as he carefully strips her of all but the shift.

 

“Thanks, babe,” she yawns before collapsing onto the couch, her body curling towards the inside and eyes closing instantly. Eddie, seeing the opportunity for snuggles with her mother, jumps up onto the arm and settles by Caitriona’s head.

 

Sam looks around for his iPhone for a few minutes, having no luck, until a grunt comes from Cait’s vicinity. She mumbles something, but it’s incoherent due to her face being pressed into one of the throw pillows.

 

“Come again?” Sam sits gingerly on the edge of the couch where his co-star lies.

 

She lifts her head just enough so that her lips are no longer blocked by the cushion. “I think I’m lying on it,” she informs him without bothering to open her eyes.

 

“On—”

 

“The phone,” she mumbles. “I can feel it digging into my hip.”

 

Sam chuckles quietly. “That can’t be comfortable.”

 

Gently, he reaches his hand beneath the side of her body and slides the phone seamlessly out from under her. He’s just beginning to rise from the couch when her top arm lazily flops towards him. More mumbled words.

 

“Just stay.”

 

Sam swallows. He sets his phone on the nearby table and moves to lie down beside her. Instinctively, Cait scoots closer inwards to make room for his large body, and he curls himself around her.

 

He freezes abruptly, unsure of what to do with his own top arm. He realizes quickly that, unless he’s planning on using his nap as an ab exercise and balancing on the edge of the couch, he will have to wrap it around Caitriona’s middle.

 

He thinks briefly about trying to read her body language, just to see if that might be what she is okay with or even wants, but the light snores coming from beside him inform him that she is already unconscious.

 

Carefully, he reaches his left arm to rest gently against her abdomen. The feeling of holding her, of lying with her like this, prompts the accidental, and yet completely unsurprising, feeling of butterflies in his stomach.

 

He grits his teeth and furiously wills his body against any other, more physically obvious, reaction.

 

He’s just starting to settle into comfort when he feels a sharp tug at his head.

 

“Ah,” he hisses, but even the sound and the quick movement of his hand rising to his hair aren’t enough to stir the woman beside him.

 

When he looks up, he sees Eddie glaring at him from her spot near Caitriona’s head.

 

“Damn cat,” he thinks to himself before resting back against the pillow.

 

Eddie doesn’t stop glaring, watching, protecting, until her mother awakens.

 

 

 

**two**

“This is only happening once.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

Caitriona pulls away from his mouth again to make another contention.

 

“It’s only because we’re drunk.”

 

She barely gets the last word out before Sam is on her lips again.

 

“And both single,” she adds, taking advantage of her free mouth once he moves to kiss down her neck.

 

“Nothing wrong with it,” Sam agrees again as he slides both hands down to grip her ass. In the shuffle, he accidentally elbows the takeout carton of fried rice and it tips over to release what had been left. “Fuck,” he grumbles.

 

“Better that than the wine,” Cait giggles.

 

“Well there’s not any of _that_ left."

 

He reaches down to find the bottom of her long sleeved t-shirt and pulls it up over her head. Using one hand to push a bra cup aside, he kisses the pert nipple underneath, making Cait arch into him.

 

"Why do ye even wear these?" He asks, frustrated as his free hand attempts to undo the bra's clasp on her back.

 

"Need some help?" She teases, but feels the two sides part as soon as the words leave her mouth. She shrugs out of the bra and he moves to pay attention to her other, now exposed, breast. A moan escapes her lips and she grinds her hips against him.

 

When Sam’s pants tighten to the point of discomfort, he hooks both arms around her thighs and stands from the couch. (If Caitriona were more sober, she would have been able to appreciate the obvious strength of his leg muscles to do so.)

 

“Bed,” is all he says between kisses, and Cait might protest in favor of casual couch sex if it weren’t for the bits of fried rice that are now scattered all over the cushions.

 

-

 

When her eyes open tiredly the next morning, the bright blue number on Sam's alarm clock reads 6:42 AM.

 

She never has been great at sleeping in when hungover.

 

Her head is aching, as are plenty of other muscles around her body, and an instant feeling of dread floods her stomach as she remembers what they'd done last night.

 

Idiots. Both of them.

 

On the one hand, she can't blame them entirely. They'd had no idea, upon sitting down on his couch, opening a bottle of wine and ordering takeout to watch the infamous wedding episode, just how erotic the scenes between them would be. Sure, they'd had inclinations while filming, as with any other type of scene, that the final product was sure to be impressible. What they hadn't anticipated, at least not consciously, is just how much it would turn them on to see themselves on screen.

 

Cait wants to kick herself.

 

_Of course it would be a turn-on, you fucking fool. It's practically like watching homemade porn. And after two bottles of wine..._

 

She'd wondered what it would be like, quite frankly, since the moment she laid eyes on him. Filming intimate scenes with him had spurred her curiosity so intensely that, the second she had realized what was happening as their lips met for their first, Sam-and-Cait kiss last night, she threw any hope of resisting the inevitable straight out the window.

 

She closes her eyes for a moment, in hopes of gaining telekinetic powers to remove herself from his bed and apartment altogether – or at least lessen the pounding in her head – and winces when she realizes she has no power to do either.

 

They're one season in. In a series that has a potential to go for six, seven...eight?

 

The thought of pretending like she doesn't know what his tongue feels like between her thighs for even a _week_ makes her want to scream. The thought of pretending for up to a decade is unbearable.

 

She pushes through the momentary nausea that plagues her when she sits up and, moving slowly so as not to disturb the man still asleep on his pillow, forces herself up and out of the bed. She finds her jeans by the door and, after a bit of an extensive search under pillows and Sam’s clothes, finds the pair of underwear she’d been wearing last night.

 

Ripped sloppily in two.

 

“Really nice, Caitriona,” she mutters under her breath, snatching them up. “Very classy.”

 

After collecting the rest of her clothes from his living room, she grabs her phone from the couch and her purse from the table by the door and leaves as quietly as she possibly can.

 

When she makes it back to her own flat, the first thing she sees upon opening the door is her beloved pet.

 

Eddie is sitting, facing the door, perched on the top of the couch, clearly having been waiting for her mother’s arrival.

 

“I know,” Caitriona says. She drops her purse and walks towards the cat. “I know. I’m sorry.”

 

She reaches out a hand to give Eddie a long rub, and, despite her prior sassiness, Cait can tell that Eddie is relieved to have her back home.

 

“Don’t worry,” she sighs, and lifts the cat into her arms. “Mummy won’t do it again.”

 

 

 

**three**

By the time Caitriona makes it back to her room, she is beyond spent.

 

Her feet are throbbing in her heels, her dress zipper itching at her back, her back aching from standing for so long, and her voice hoarse from talking all goddamned day.

 

Comic Con, apparently, is not for the faint of heart.

 

She undresses immediately, putting all of the clothing in its requisite spots, and takes a scalding hot shower. It doesn’t occur to her until after she’s blow dried her hair and tied the knot on her gloriously fluffy white robe that she’s starving.

 

She crosses the hotel room in search of a room service menu of some kind, but her phone beeps from where it sits on the bed and distracts her. When she reaches to grab it, she sees two text messages.

 

**Karo**

_She's perfect, as always. I think we look so similar that she hasn't even noticed the difference ;)_

 

 

Caitriona smiles and fires off a reply.

 

_She'd better!!! And, ahem, her mother would like some pics when you and Andrew can stop snogging for long enough to take a few...._

 

 

She opens the next text, this one from the man she'd just parted from not half an hour ago. Her heart feels light at the thought that maybe he misses her anyway, but she does her best to stuff the feeling down, down, down.

 

**Sammy Boy**

_Room service, whisky, movie, no talking to any dafties for the rest of the night, you, me???_

 

 

It's their only free night for the entirety of the trip, and Cait does have to admit that it would be nice to spend some down time with him before three more days of nonstop press.

 

In the back of her mind, a tiny voice reminds her of her plan.

 

“ _Not tonight_ ,” she thinks. “ _Not here. Not now._ ”

 

She’d been a right idiot already. A few weeks after they’d fallen into bed together for the second time – the _sober_ time – Sam had, of course, wanted to discuss it.

 

And Caitriona, the stupid, closed-off fool, had told him she regretted both occurrences. She’d thought it best at the time, them being in the middle of shooting a season _and_ having already been warned against dating or sleeping together. And yet, she’s been miserable ever since, and she knows the only way to move forward is to be honest with him.

 

She had promised him honesty, after all, and she’d already failed once.

 

She clicks to reply to the text.

 

_Making me an offer I can't resist, huh Heughan?_

 

_I'm 1604_

 

 

**Sammy Boy**

I know what room you’re in X

 

 

Cait rolls her eyes briefly and bites down a smile as she plugs her phone into the charger on the desk. She realizes that it's probably best to swap her robe for some actual pajamas, so she grabs a pair from her suitcase and hangs the beloved robe back in the bathroom. 

 

The room is a bit messy, but she doesn't do much to fix it beyond making sure that no trash or undergarments of any kind are lying out in the open. Just as she's located the room service menu, she hears a knock at her door.

 

She opens it and immediately frowns.

 

"You are _not_ the stripper I ordered."

 

Sam plays along instantly and Caitriona fights another smile.

 

"Ah, I caught the lad outside your door, but he was wearing a damned cowboy hat. I knew ye'd hate it so I told him he'd best be off."

 

Cait sighs theatrically. "Probably for the better, but I was really hoping for the company."

 

Sam raises the bottle of Laphroaig that she hadn't yet noticed he's holding and grins. "I've got better company."

 

Cait giggles because, well, she can't help it, and she steps aside to let him in. She closes the door behind him and, upon turning around, takes a moment to appreciate his apparel. 

 

He looks as comfortable as she does, donning navy sweatpants and the loose gray t-shirt he'd gotten from a whisky factory tour they once took. His hair is still damp at the ends from his shower and Caitriona realizes that dinner is not the only thing she’s hungry for.

 

Sam loudly jumps onto the bed like a teenager, making himself at home and jolting Cait from her currently filthy mind.

 

"Such a child," she tuts. "At least make us drinks before getting so cozy."

 

He grins and swings his legs back over the bed to fulfill her request. When Cait's phone dings with a text notification, Sam looks up curiously from where he stands pouring their whisky. 

 

"It's Karo," she explains before he asks, because she just doesn't feel like making him grovel. "I think I told you, she's got—Oh, she sent pictures!"

 

Caitriona swipes through three different photos of her beloved pet, each making her laugh harder than the one before.

 

"What's Ed getting herself up to?" Sam asks.

 

Cait crosses the room to show him the pictures Karolina had sent, and he joins her in chuckling at how even otherwise adorable photos can't save Eddie from her own Resting Bitch Face. 

 

"Ugh," Caitriona groans, "I hate how much I miss her. I really should have brought her along."

 

Sam shrugs. "Next year. She'd love it, all the attention, ye know."

 

"Of course." Cait smiles at the thought, and then laughs to herself while truly imagining Eddie sitting in her lap during a panel. 

 

Sam hands her a glass, pulling her back into the present, and he clinks his to hers in a cheers. 

 

"To three days of denying that we're screwing each other," he jokes.

 

Cait chokes on her first sip and Sam laughs. 

 

"We're _not_ ," she says pointedly, taking a proper sip of the drink.

 

"Just like that – that was very convincing."

 

"It's easy to be convincing if you're telling the truth."

 

A small smile appears on Sam's face, and they stare at each other for a few seemingly long moments until Cait moves to grab the room service menu. 

 

"Stop distracting us from ordering food," she tells him. "I'm fucking hungry."

 

Sam walks over to the bed and, after setting his glass down on the nightstand, jumps back onto the mattress. "I want a cheeseburger."

 

She snorts and grabs the phone from the desk. "Of course you do."

 

After placing their order, Cait crawls onto the bed and joins him in clicking through the offered movies on the hotel's On Demand service.

 

"Drama?" He asks. "Comedy? Horror?" A few more clicks down and then, " _Adult_?"

 

Cait pushes on his shoulder. "Don't you dare," she says and grabs the remote from his hand. She scrolls back up and, upon glancing over the genres again, her mind involuntarily conjures an image of them curled up together watching a scary movie. 

 

" _You are such a teenager, Caitriona_ ," she chides herself, but the self-teasing doesn't stop her. She's opening her mouth to suggest some terrifying-looking movie when he speaks first. 

 

"I could go for horror."

 

She closes her mouth and nods. "Alright. Nothing cheesy. I want to be properly scared."

 

"That's my girl," he says, and she grits her teeth in protest of the fluttering in her stomach.

 

Cait sets a hand on his arm before he clicks play. "Let's wait until our food gets here to start it."

 

"Good plan," Sam agrees. He moves to grab his whisky and sip from it. “Are ye ready for this weekend?”

 

“I think so. I have a general idea of what we’re doing, so…” She shrugs.

 

Sam nods. “Should be fun to get to meet some of the fans.”

 

“And answer questions about what the best and worst parts of filming in Scotland are six hundred times,” Caitriona jokes.

 

“Don’t forget how we like the costumes,” he adds.

 

“And who makes us laugh the most on set.”

 

“And then re-assuring them we aren’t together when we point to each other to answer that question.”

 

Cait makes a noise of assent, mostly into her glass, and takes a long sip of whisky.

 

“Cait.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

He swallows. “Nothing.”

 

A knock at the door turns both of their attention to the call from room service outside, and Sam offers to get it.

 

After his cheeseburger, her salmon and couscous plate, and the extra side of fries have been mostly finished off, Sam begins moving everything back outside for the staff to take away. As Caitriona watches him clean up, she steels herself with the last chug of her whisky.

 

“ _Just do it._ ” She sets the glass down. “ _He wants to talk about it. You know he wants to talk about it. Just do it._ ”

 

He reappears in the room again – “ _Jesus fucking Christ, he’s so attractive._ ” – and Cait looks up at him expectantly.

 

His mouth quirks upwards. “What?”

 

She blinks.

 

“Let’s watch the movie.”

 

If Sam looks even the slightest bit disappointed, Cait ignores it. He shuts off the lights, settles back onto the bed, and clicks on their selection, _The Strangers_.

 

“We should have gotten popcorn for this,” Cait comments as the opening credits begin to roll and the daunting music fills the room.

 

As soon as the image of the clearly solitary cabin in the woods appears as the choice destination of the movie’s couple, Sam throws his hands up. “They’re wankers.”

 

Caitriona doesn’t miss the way his left hand lands on her leg. She swallows the shaky feeling in her throat.  


“Duh. Horror movies wouldn’t work without idiots.”

 

“True.”

 

At the film’s first jump scare, Caitriona winces and instinctively curls her legs inward.

 

“Afraid already, babe? Ye know they’re going to be jumping out for the entire movie, right?”

 

“ _Yes_ , you _git_.”

 

Sam laughs, and Cait shushes him.

 

“Come here.” He reaches an arm around her to pull her closer, and she’s sure that every inch of her is on fire. They’re completely touching now – not even Eddie could fit between their bodies – and Caitriona curses the wetness she can feel between her thighs. Even more torturously, she’d neither be able to see or feel if he were having a similar reaction.

 

Ten minutes pass before she realizes she hasn’t at all been paying attention to the movie, and her body feels so hot that she thinks she could explode.

 

“Be right back,” she says, and pulls herself reluctantly from the cuddle to use the bathroom. Once she’s got the sliding door nearly shut, she flicks on the light and braces both hands on the counter in front of her.

 

“Just do it,” she whispers, eyeing herself in the enormous mirror. “You can’t go on like this – you can’t. You won’t make it through this weekend.” She lets out a breath. “Fuck. Fuck. No. Fuck.”

 

She releases her grip on the counter and begins pacing as the argument in her mind continues. Oh, how badly she wants to go back out into the room and climb on top of him without having to say a word.

 

Not that she couldn’t.

 

But she’s an adult, goddammit, and she’s going to make right of this.

 

She returns to the counter to look herself in the mirror.

 

“I don’t regret it,” she practices. Even tasting the words on her tongue promises to lift the weight from her shoulders.

 

“I lied when I said I regretted it. I don’t. I want to be with you. I want to be together.”

 

She huffs and relaxes her stance. “I want us to be together.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Caitriona screams and slaps her hand to her heart.

 

“Fuck!” She feels her face grow unbearably hot. “Jesus fucking Christ, what are you—We’re watching a horror movie; you can’t just—”

 

Sam grins and she wants to slap him and also fuck him until she can’t walk.

 

“I do, too.”

 

“You do _what_?” She dares to ask, because she actually can’t bear the thought that he’d heard her fucking _rehearsal_.

 

He places two hands on either of her hips and she quivers.

 

“I want us to be together, too.”

 

Her heart is racing and she wonders if her chest is visibly bobbing as much as she feels it is. Tears prickle in the corners of her eyes. She swallows them and speaks so softly that he almost doesn’t hear her.

 

“You heard me?”

 

She's backed up against the counter now, Sam having closed in on her. 

 

"Yes."

 

His body is close enough that she's sure he could feel, and probably smell, the heat at the base of her belly.

 

"And you want to be with me?" Her voice cracks and she's mortified about the entire situation, but then Sam smiles and the weight she'd tasted earlier vanished completely from her chest.

 

"Yes," he says again, and then his mouth is on hers and her hands are in his hair and he's lifting her to settle against him. She feels his erection through his sweatpants now and kisses him harder.

 

Sam carries her out of the bathroom and back to the bed, setting her down and crawling on top of her. 

 

"I've got to say, babe – that was the cutest thing I've ever seen ye do."

 

She slaps his shoulder and uses the hand to cover her eyes. "Shut up. Please. I’ll kill you if you ever mention this again."

 

He laughs happily and moves her hand, kissing her palm before releasing it. "Did ye think I'd say no, Caitriona?"

 

She finds his eyes in the darkness of the room that even the large TV doesn't lighten. "I don't know."

 

"I have wanted to be with you since the day I met you."

 

Caitriona brings his head down for another kiss, but takes advantage as soon as his lips start down her neck.

 

"You know we can't let on about this, to anyone, this weekend," she points out.

 

"I know."

 

"No _Handsy Heughan_."

 

He rolls his eyes and nips gently at her neck. "I touch ye all the time anyway."

 

Cait sighs and allows herself to enjoy the kisses she’s dreamed of for so long. “True.”

 

 

 

**four**

“So ye don’t even want to talk about it, then?”

 

“Not particularly, no.”

 

“But if we don’t—”

 

“I said no, Sam. Not tonight.”

 

He swallows and nods once. "Okay."

 

While Cait continues to load leftover utensils into the dishwasher, Sam leaves the room to go take his shower.

 

She cleans more than is necessary – re-scrubbing countertops and organizing books on the coffee table. She changes the litter box despite Sam having done it two days ago, and takes extra time to brush Eddie's hair. Despite the cat’s clear annoyance with the extended job, she allows Cait to move slowly, almost as if she could sense the stress in her mother's soft hands.

 

Eddie follows her into the bedroom, then, keeping at Caitriona's heels as she changes into pajamas.

 

"Sweet of you, Ed, but I'm okay." Cait reaches down to give her a long rub and Eddie purrs in appreciation.

 

When she stands again, she rubs her aching forehead and walks into the bathroom to begin her nighty routine. Sam is at his sink, shaving the stubble from his face, but he knows better than to speak to her right now. For the entire seven minutes that both of them spend side-by-side in their bathroom, the most communication he gets with her is a second-hand touch due to Eddie's roaming back and forth between their legs.

 

Finally, Sam lifts the cat into his arms, strokes her fur, and looks at his wife.

 

"What's got her acting up?"

 

Caitriona sets her toothbrush back in its holder and dries her mouth. She shrugs. "Maybe she's upset that her father wants to ruin everything that we have fought to protect for nearly two years."

 

Sam opens his mouth but Cait speaks again before he can get any words out.

 

"That wasn't an invitation to start a conversation."

 

She speaks less pointedly than she had been with him earlier, mostly because she's exhausted and she knows her comment isn’t exactly fair. She doesn't have the energy to underlay her words with sharpness, and she's sensible enough to know it'll just be something she would want to apologize for later. Still, Sam looks frustrated, and Cait leaves the room so that she's not tempted to say anymore.

 

Earlier, Sam had wondered if it would just be easier for him to sleep on the couch for the night. They'd long ago agreed upon a rule to never go to bed angry – a bit of a cliché, but Caitriona's parents have held to it for years and it was one of her father's only bits of advice for his daughter on her wedding day. And while Sam isn't angry, per say, with his wife, he knows her well enough to see that his presence is currently more of a stressor than a pleasure. 

 

Still unsure, he sets Eddie down and walks into the bedroom, where Caitriona is already in bed reading. She reads his face and body language before he can utter a word.

 

"Get in," she tells him. And then, "I'm sure."

 

Cait continues reading as her husband settles into bed, and allows the soft kiss he plants on her cheek before he lies back down and turns to face his side of the wall.

 

Once she’s finished her chapter, Caitriona sets the novel down on her nightstand and switches the lamp off. When she curls on her side, eyes drowsy but mind abuzz, Eddie walks from where she’d been lying at her mother’s feet to stretch out between their bodies. She wastes no time taking advantage of the unusually large amount of space between them, and Caitriona wonders if Eddie is suddenly just as abnormally restless as she herself is.

 

After being prodded in the back by one of Eddie’s limbs for the nth time, Sam finally flips over, sighing, and rubs Eddie to hopefully help her settle. The cat has no such plans, though, stretching far enough towards Sam that she nearly paws him in the chin.

 

“ _Eddie_ ,” he grumbles, and picks her up to set her at his feet. She yelps and rejects the move almost instantly to begin walking up Caitriona’s body.

 

“Ed, stop,” Cait says, half into her pillow.

 

Sam sits up. “What on earth’s gotten into her?”

 

Cait huffs and turns her body over so that Eddie has to move off of her. “I don’t know, but I swear, I’m about to lock her out of our room.”

 

“She’d probably be offended enough to try to burn the house down.”

 

Caitriona scoffs. “We kick her out sometimes when we have sex.”

 

Involuntarily, Sam feels a twitching in his boxers. He closes his eyes momentarily and wills himself to not react any further – not like that’s been any use to him in the past when he’s around his wife.

 

“Sam?”

 

She speaks and he remembers that he’d forgotten to reply.

 

“Hm?” He opens his eyes again and realizes he can see her eyes in the darkness. “Oh, yeah. True.”

 

Neither of them says anything for a moment, but finally Caitriona caves.

 

“We can talk about it.”

 

“But—”

 

“I know I said I didn’t want to. But it wasn’t right of me to shut you out like that, and, to be honest, I think you were right about it stressing us out more to _not_ discuss it.”

 

“Really?”

 

Cait makes a sound of assent and settles comfortably against the pillow.

 

“I know you’re worried about it,” Sam starts, “but how we handle this is really important to me, babe.”

 

“I know.”

 

“No, I don’t think ye know. And that’s my fault – I haven’t—” Sam sighs. “I haven’t explained myself properly.”

 

Caitriona holds his gaze, urging him to continue.

 

“I haven’t told you just how much it bothers me – _infuriates_ me, really – that they think they can throw any blonde woman my way and I’ll agree to go along with it. It’s disrespectful to you – they have to know that—”

 

“They do still think I’m a girlfriend,” Cait injects, mostly trying to play the Devil’s Advocate.

 

“It doesn’t matter. Girlfriend or wife, they _know_ I’m with you.” Sam sits up in the bed and turns his lamp on. “I dinna know what’s worse,” he continues, accent thickening the more worked up he becomes, “whether they truly think our relationship is some kind of flirtatious phase, or if they know I’m committed to you and they just don’t give a damn.”

 

He nearly spits the last few words out, and Caitriona sits up alongside him and takes both of his hands in hers. She says nothing. When Sam speaks again, he’s considerably calmer.

 

“For me, how I handle this – how _we_ handle it – speaks to the kind of man I am. I’m tired of the games – the ‘Just wait until the next season premieres’ and ‘You’ll just take her to this one show’ and the ‘Tone down the PDA’ when all we’re doing is _looking_ at each other.”

 

Cait nods and squeezes his hand.

 

“I’m tired of it, Caitriona. I know ye don’t love the idea of a public relationship, but I’m going mad and I think you are, too. I’m sick of being walked all over by people who treat this as a game or a publicity stunt. You’re my wife; I’m yer husband,” he says firmly. “I am going to do what I know in my bones is best for our marriage, and that is tell them that we’re done with the pretending, and the next bloody carpet we walk will be as man and wife.”

 

The room goes quiet, save for the small sounds of Eddie’s snores from where she lies at their feet.

 

And then Caitriona launches at him.

 

She uses one hand to cup his cheek, the other fisting itself in his hair as she gets comfortable straddling his lap. Sam, startled as he is, finds her hips and grips tightly and slides his tongue into her mouth.

 

“So ye agree, then?” He asks, breathlessly, when they finally pull their lips apart.

 

Cait shakes her head and kisses him again. “I don’t even care anymore. That was the sexiest thing you’ve ever said.”

 

Sam grins and flips her onto her back, and the motion rattles the bed enough to wake Eddie. She stands, walking over their tangled legs, and Caitriona pushes on her husband’s shoulders to get his attention.

 

“Should we kick her out?” She nods towards where Eddie is getting comfortable again.

 

“Our cat child just got me laid. We’re not kicking her out.”

 

Cait bursts into a fit of laughter and Sam grins against her ear. “I’m serious,” he tells her between kisses. “New rule: Eddie can stay any goddamn time she wants.”

 

 

 

**five**

The first thing Sam notices when he wakes is that his leg is cold.

 

Feeling it, he realizes that most of it is dangling off of the side of the bed, completely uncovered due to wearing his boxers to sleep rather than pajama pants. Given that his wife has lately preferred to sleep with the thermostat set to an ungodly cold temperature, having bodily parts go exposed - even for someone as naturally warm-bodied as Sam - is quite jarring.

 

The second thing he realizes is that there are two things, one sharper than the other, lodged against his body. The more pointed object, small but very firm, is digging into his shoulder. Carefully, he turns his head towards the center of the bed and slowly plucks the paw from where it had been pushing against him. Eddie recoils her arm and, once Sam can shift onto his side, she curls into his chest to fall back asleep.

 

Sam reaches down to pull the second intrusive item from under his hip, and tosses the Peppa Pig stuffed toy down by his feet. As he turns comfortably to the bed's middle, toy now out of the way, he remembers why their king-sized bed had seemed so very crowded.

 

Across the bed from him lies Caitriona, still sleeping, her hair wild against the pillow. Next to her, nestled between the large bump under her pajama shirt and Eddie, their daughter is emitting the same light snores that Sam loves to tease his wife about.

 

Her bedhead is even more drastic than Cait's, and Sam has to grin at the way Grier seems to take up so much space in a bed for such a tiny human being. While one arm is curled around her stuffed bunny, the other is stretched out above her head.

 

Reaching out a hand, Sam gently brushes a brown curl out of her face and recalls fondly the events of the night before: a large, Scottish thunderstorm; the sound of little feet pattering quickly into their bedroom; a tearful voice asking to sleep in her Mama and Da's bed.

 

Once Sam had pulled Grier (and the two comfort plush friends she’d brought along) into the bed and promised her she was safe, the three-year-old crawled into her mother's arms and soon fell asleep to the feeling of a soft hand rubbing circles on her back. For the hundredth time, Sam had marveled at how Caitriona could snuggle their first child so close to her chest while being barely a month away from delivering their second.

 

Undoubtedly, he has decided, she is a superhero.

 

He lies awake for another few minutes, just watching his wife and daughter, before noticing that Grier is stirring in her sleep. She uses two small hands to rub her eyes, and Sam watches as she sits up, suddenly remembering where she is, and turns to look at him.

 

“Dada,” she cries pleadingly, and begins crawling over Eddie to get to her father. Upon being nearly stepped on, Eddie wakes with a start and walks over to where Caitriona is still sleeping. Sam tries to gently stop the cat from pawing at her mother, but it’s to no avail – Eddie always was stubborn – and Cait blinks open tired eyes.

 

“Sorry,” Sam murmurs to her as Grier falls back asleep on his chest.

 

“S’alright,” Caitriona says, pulling Eddie into her arms. She smiles sleepily. “She’s getting tired of sharing the bed with so many people.”

 

Sam yawns. “She’s not the only one,” he teases and leans over to kiss her. “Good morning.”

 

“Mmm, morning.”

 

“You look tired. Did ye get any sleep?”

 

“Some. On the bright side, your daughter may play soccer for Ireland,” she informs him dryly as she rubs a hand over her belly.

 

“Ye mean Scotland,” he says, earning a smile from his wife. “Suppose naps will be in order for us today, though. Peppa decided to sleep under my side all night.”

 

Caitriona giggles at this and moves her hand from her stomach to rest tenderly on Sam’s cheek. They stare at each other contently, not moving or speaking, until Caitriona tells him to move closer to her.

 

Sam shifts over, cautious not to wake their toddler, and wraps an arm around his wife while she curls herself as comfortably as she can against his body. She draws one soft fingertip over Grier’s pouty cheek as she sleeps before dropping the hand to rest on a free spot of Sam’s chest.

 

“You should try to get some more sleep,” Sam says, but when he leans down to kiss the crown of Caitriona’s head, he sees that she’s already dozed off.

 

He smiles and closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Join me in the trash can @samcaiteddie on Tumblr.


End file.
